All In Your Head
by whoopsimreading
Summary: It's weird how the human mind works. You tell him something, he believes it. You tell him something, he dies. What do you have to tell him to make him kill?
1. Chapter 1

Thomas Jefferson was falling in love with James Madison. Did he mean to? No. Was it a wonderful feeling? Yes.

You see, James Madison was depressed. He told himself he couldn't do anything.

But he could.

Thomas took it upon himself to convince James that _he could_.

"I can't do this anymore," he would say.

"Try one more time," Thomas would reply.

"I can't take this anymore," he would say.

"Let's go for a walk outside to sort out our thoughts," Thomas would reply.

And they went like that. Eventually they forgot about they project that caused them to meet and they solely focused on each other.

One day, Thomas bought James a book of poetry.

That same day, James gave Thomas a book of poetry that he himself wrote.

Thomas always used that when James said he was useless. He wrote a whole poetry book. You'd be surprised at the great things you can do if you only try.

They were very happy together. They ate together. They shared insecurities and secrets. They had fallen in love.

They were falling in love, which means the landing would hurt.

* * *

James and Thomas had come to the end of the year. James got good grades, which brought up his confidence.

He was getting better.

James was writing. He had a boyfriend. He had good grades, which almost guaranteed a bright future for him. Almost nothing could bring him down.

Almost.

James was packing up his items into boxes, when Alexander Hamilton walked in.

"Hello, James. How was your day?"

James looked up and smiled. He was getting better at smiling. "My day has been fantastic, how about you?"

"My day was fine. I was just talking to Thomas. Is it true he helped you with your depression?"

"Well, yeah. He has supportive way with words. It's a touchy topic, so could we not?"

"Oh, but I insist."

James's smile faded.

"Alexander, I'm still recovering, but I'm getting better, okay?"

"Is it true that you really felt like you couldn't do _anything_?" Hamilton's words weaved through James's brain like a snake.

"Yeah…" he faded off, thinking about the dark times that had past. That had probably past.

"It's a shame that you aren't that good at anything now."

"What? That's mean!"

"Oh, but it's true. How many times did you mess up today? How many times did people laugh in your face? How do you know the people who say they love you really love you?"

James shouldn't have, but he was letting the words get to his head.

What Hamilton said next made Madison snap.

"Can you really go the rest of your life in constant fear that everyone hates you? And you know what it feels like to have people hate you…"  
James was silently crying, letting the melancholy feeling wash over him.

Little voices whispered, "You're not good enough."

"They all lied to you."

"They all hate you."

James turned to Alexander, who was holding up a little bottle of pills.

"You look like a mess, James. Too bad Thomas doesn't care enough to come and check and see what might happen in the next few minutes."

And with that, Alexander calmy set the pills on the dresser and walked out, locking the door behind him. On his way out of the building, he checked to make sure Burr was severely drunk, and that all the cameras were covered with a piece of cloth, somehow.

James didn't notice that Alex was wearing gloves the whole time.

James didn't care.

He reached for the pills.


	2. Chapter 2

James was found the next morning with a bottle of pills in his hand.

It was all very suspicious. James had seemed like he was getting better, and he was a happier person in general. And, somehow, all the cameras were blocked in the hallway of James's room.

Thomas was the one who found him on the floor. He went to give him a present, and the door was locked. His door was never locked. He had to physically break the door down after screaming James's name multiple times, to no answer. He saw James, sprawled out on the floor, pills in hand.

The hours that came afterwards were painful. Thomas was questioned. _James killed himself._ Why would he? Did Thomas not help him enough? Was it Thomas's fault?

The day was over, and James was dead. It was crazy that it all happened that day. Thomas laid down and cried. Just sobbed with no one to comfort him. With no James to comfort him.

He was just about to fall asleep all alone, when his phone beeped.

It was a blocked number.

"It's funny how humans react, dontcha think?"

* * *

Aaron Burr came knocking at Thomas's door at 2:00 in the morning.

Thomas answered the door, and the first thing Burr said was, "I think I killed James."

"It's fucking 2AM Burr go back to fucking sleep, you're drunk."

"No, I think I did. I think I was drunk so I don't remember it."

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"I was just talking to Hamilton, and we started talking about it."

"Hamilton?"

"Yeah. He said he saw me drunk in this building the same time James killed himself."

"But James KILLED HIMSELF. How could you kill him?"

"Hamilton said I could have poisoned him and planted the pills in his hand."

"There were no fingerprints found, thought."

"Gloves?"

"You know too much about this. I'm going for a walk."

Thomas grabbed his jacket and went outside. He silently walked around, gathering his thoughts. Walking at 2AM was a good way to organize your mind.

"Hello, Jefferson."

Thomas turned around, only to see Alexander Hamilton, leaning against a light.

"What did you tell Aaron? He's freaking out."

"Funny, isn't it? You can just tell someone something and they believe it. Weird…"

"What did you do?"

Alexander looked up innocently.

"Oh, nothing! I mean, sure I'm going to get arrested when I'm caught, but all I did was plant a seed of thought in Aaron's mind, and HE'S growing it."

"Arrested?"

"Oh don't say you haven't figured it out already." He looked at me, and dropped his jaw sarcastically when he saw I was dumbfounded.

"I killed James! God, you all are so dumb."

"How?"

"Like Aaron. I planted seeds in his mind and watched them flourish. Which is what I'm going to do now."

"You can't do it to me."

"Oh, but I will. Imagine how romantic it would be to die the same death as your true love…"

I didn't say anything this time, just stared at him.

He also remained silent, and help up a vial of pills.

I looked at them, and walked away. As I turned around, I saw Aaron Burr aiming a gun at me.

He shot, but it didn't hit me.

Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton.


End file.
